One Month Later
The house had learned how to laugh again. Not the forced kind, the brittle chuckles people muster to paper over fresh wounds. No, this was real laughter—rich, unscripted, spilling like sunlight across the dining room that evening. It bounced off the walls, warmed the air, and settled into the bones of the old place as if it had never left.
Wine glasses clinked in lazy toasts.
Augustina, rosy-cheeked and halfway through her second glass of cabernet, leaned back in her chair with a contented sigh. Her fork dangled from loose fingers as she pointed it accusingly at Isaac across the table. "I swear, if Harmony grows up half as stubborn as you, I'm packing my bags and moving out. Straight to a quiet beach somewhere, no drama."
Isaac scoffed, his eyes twinkling with mock offense. He swirled his own glass, the deep red liquid catching the candlelight. "She's already smarter than you. Didn't marry me, did she?"
Kiss nearly choked on her sip of sparkling water, bubbles tickling her throat. She coughed, laughing through it. Adrian shot her a quick, concerned glance, his hand instinctively half-rising from the table.
"Careful there."
"I'm fine," she waved him off, dabbing her mouth with a napkin, her laughter lingering like an echo. It felt good—easy. These moments had become the norm over the past weeks, small cracks of light piercing the shadows she'd carried for so long.
Across the room, chaos reigned in the best way. Toys littered the rug like colorful shrapnel from a joyful explosion: blocks toppled into stuffed animals, a toy truck overturned beside a forgotten puzzle. Her son, little Theo with his wild curls and boundless energy, chased his sister and coudin ,Harmony and Princess around the coffee table, brandishing a plastic dinosaur like a triumphant warrior. "Rawr! You can't escape the T-Rex!"
"No! Give it back!" Harmony squealed, her pigtails bouncing as she darted behind the couch, tiny feet pattering on the hardwood.
At four years old, she was all fire and determination, a mirror of her mother in ways that both thrilled and terrified Kiss.
"It's mine now!" Theo declared, pumping the toy high overhead, his grin fierce and unyielding.
"That's not how sharing works, Theo!" Kiss called out instinctively, her voice light, maternal habit kicking in before she could stop it.
"Daddy said don't lose!" he shouted back, undeterred, peeking over the couch arm like a soldier in a trench.
Kiss turned slowly, arching an eyebrow at Adrian. He didn't even try to hide his smug smile, leaning back with arms crossed over his broad chest. "What? I'm just teaching them strategy."
"You're a bad influence," she said, shaking her head, but a smile tugged quietly at the corner of her lips. It was true, in the best way. Adrian's rough edges had softened the house, turned it from a fortress into a home.
It had been like this for weeks now. Small moments stitching themselves into something resembling peace. Laughter at breakfast. Theo's sticky fingers in her hair during storytime. Harmony's whispered secrets shared under blanket forts. And somehow… she had stayed. She didn't talk about it, didn't dissect the why of it with words. But every morning, she woke up in their bed, Adrian's arm heavy across her waist, and chose not to leave.
The phone rang then—sharp, insistent, slicing through the warmth like a cold blade. It vibrated on the side table, the screen lighting up with her secretary's name. Kiss's smile faded instantly, erased as if it had never been. She glanced at it, hesitation flickering in her eyes, then stood slowly. "I'll take this."
No one thought much of it at first. Family dinners had their interruptions—work calls, neighbor check-ins. Augustina kept chatting with Isaac about some office gossip, her laughter bubbling on. But then they saw her face change. The color drained from her cheeks, leaving her skin pale and taut. She pressed the phone to her ear, her posture shifting from relaxed to coiled.
"Speak," she said quietly, her voice a low command that carried across the room.
Silence stretched, taut as a wire. Kiss's free hand clenched at her side, nails digging into her palm.
Then—"What do you mean she's gone?"
The air shifted. Heavy now, charged. Adrian straightened in his chair, fork pausing midway to his mouth. Isaac stopped mid-sentence, his brow furrowing. Even the twins quieted, sensing the change like animals before a storm.
"No," Kiss said slowly, deliberately. "That's not possible." Another pause, her expression darkening—dangerously so, eyes narrowing to slits. "You had one job."
Augustina frowned, setting her glass down with a soft clink. "What's wrong?"
Kiss didn't answer. Her focus was a laser.
"Find her," she continued, voice dropping colder, sharper, each word honed to a razor's edge. "I don't care how. I don't care where.
You find her before I do." Her breathing had changed—shorter, controlled, the rhythm of someone teetering on the brink of unleashing hell. "If she disappears completely…" she added quietly, almost a whisper, "…you won't like what happens next."
She ended the call with a thumb swipe, the screen going dark. Silence crashed in—heavy, uncomfortable, pressing down on the room like a storm cloud.
Kiss stood there for a beat, phone still clutched in her hand. Then she turned, walked past them all, straight toward the stairs. Her steps were measured, but the tension in her shoulders screamed urgency.
Adrian stood immediately, chair scraping back. "Kiss."
She didn't stop.
Isaac frowned, exchanging a glance with his wife. "What was that about?"
Augustina rose too, worry etching lines around her eyes. "Kiss, talk to us. Please."
She kept walking, shoulders rigid.
"Kiss," Adrian said again, firmer now, his voice cutting through the quiet like a command.
She stopped. But didn't turn. Her back was to them, a wall of defiance.
"It's nothing," she said flatly.
It was a lie. Everyone heard it—thin, brittle, cracking under its own weight.
Isaac stepped forward, hands raised placatingly. "That didn't sound like nothing. Come on, we're family."
"I said it's nothing."
"Kiss—" Augustina started.
"I said leave it."
Augustina crossed her arms, unyielding. "No. You don't get to shut us out again. Not after everything."
That hit. Kiss turned slowly this time, her eyes no longer calm pools but twin infernos, burning with a fury she'd kept banked for weeks. "You want to know?" she asked, her voice deceptively even. No one spoke; the room held its breath. "Fine."
Her laugh was sharp, wrong—jagged glass scraping bone. "Because of you," she said, pointing lightly between them, the gesture casual but loaded with accusation, "I'm getting further away from what I was supposed to do."
Adrian's brows pulled together, confusion sharpening to concern. "What are you talking about?"
"My revenge," she snapped.
The word landed hard, a grenade in the heart of their fragile peace. The room went deathly quiet, the twins peeking from behind the couch, wide-eyed and confused.
"You think this?" She gestured wildly around—the scattered toys, the half-eaten plates, the flickering candles—"this playing house, this pretending everything is fine while the world outside is rotting?"
"Kiss," Adrian cut in, standing now, his voice steady but edged with warning.
"No!" she snapped, whirling on him. "Don't 'Kiss' me right now. I was close. I was right there, fingers on the throat of it all. And now she's gone because I let myself get distracted by… by this."
"Who?" Isaac asked, voice low, stepping closer despite the storm in her eyes.
Kiss laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. "Does it matter? She's the one who tried to end me—poison in my veins, lies in my life. And now she's vanished because I stayed here too long, playing at normal."
"Yes, it matters," Adrian said firmly, closing the distance. "Who is she?"
She shook her head, jaw tight. "No. What matters is I stayed long enough to lose her.
To lose everything I came back for.
"And you think leaving fixes that?" Adrian challenged, his tone unyielding.
"Yes."
"No, it doesn't. It never has."
"It does for me."
"And what about us?" he shot back, voice rising just a fraction, pain flickering beneath the steel.
She hesitated—just a second, a crack in the armor. Then she hardened again, rebuilding the walls. "I'm leaving tonight."
The words hit like a slap, raw and stinging. Augustina inhaled sharply. "Kiss, no—"
She walked past them, determined, her mind already mapping routes, contingencies.
Adrian moved instantly, faster than she expected. His hand closed around her wrist—firm, unyielding. She tried to pull away, twisting sharply. "Let go."
"No."
"Adrian."
"I said no."
She turned sharply, eyes flashing. "Don't start this again. I'm not yours to hold."
"Then don't walk away again." His grip didn't waver, callused fingers warm against her skin.
Her eyes blazed. "This is not about you."
"It is when you're my wife."
"Don't—"
"Then what is it about?" he demanded, stepping into her space. "Tell me. Let me in."
She yanked her hand free with a fierce twist, rubbing her wrist though it didn't hurt. "You wouldn't understand. You never have."
"Then make me understand. Spell it out."
"I don't have time for this."
"And I don't have patience left for you running away every time things get hard." His voice cracked on the last word, raw honesty bleeding through.
That did it—ignited the powder keg. "Hard?" She laughed harshly, the sound echoing off the walls. "You think this is hard? Sitting here playing happy family, laughing over dinner while the person who tried to kill me walks free? The woman who slipped into my life like a shadow, who poisoned my coffee that night in the villa, who whispered lies to dismantle everything I built? You think this—wine and toys and bedtime stories—is hard?"
Silence swallowed the room. The twins huddled closer together on the floor, Harmony's thumb slipping into her mouth, Theo's face set in stubborn defiance and Princess staring blankly.
Adrian stepped closer, undeterred, his voice dropping softer but no less intense. "Then let us help you. Let me help. We're stronger together."
"I don't need help." Her words were a whip-crack.
"That's your problem, Kiss. Always has been. You think you're unbreakable alone."
"And this is yours," she shot back, voice breaking slightly for the first time, vulnerability slipping through. "Thinking you can fix everything. That love papers over blood and betrayal."
"I'm not trying to fix everything," he said, softer now, reaching for her again. She flinched but didn't retreat. "I'm trying to keep you here. With us."
"Why?" The question came out quiet, real—stripped bare.
Adrian stared at her, the weight of the past month in his eyes: the nights she'd thrashed in nightmares, the mornings he'd coaxed her back to bed, the quiet victories of her staying. "Because I can't lose you again. Not after the hospital, not after the lies, not after burying you in my heart just to dig you up."
That… almost broke her. Almost. The words pierced deep, stirring the ache she'd ignored—the pull of this life, messy and real, against the cold clarity of vengeance. She looked away, throat tight. "…Too late," she whispered. "I'm already gone."
She turned, took one step toward the stairs—
Adrian pulled her back. Hard. His hand slid to her waist, locking her in place before she could react, bodies colliding with electric force. "Adrian—"
He kissed her. Not soft, not the gentle reunions of the past weeks. Hungry. Desperate. Like he was trying to drag her soul back with nothing but his mouth, his hands fisting in her shirt. It was fire and claim, teeth grazing her lip, tongue demanding surrender.
She pushed against him at first—hands flat on his chest, resisting the tidal pull. No. Not now. Not when she's out there. But it didn't last. It never did with him. Her fingers tightened, twisting into his shirt. Her body leaned in despite herself, arching against the solid wall of him. The kiss deepened—hot, fierce, unforgiving—a battle neither wanted to win.
By the time he pulled back, both were breathing hard, chests heaving. He rested his forehead against hers, eyes locked, breaths mingling. "You're not leaving," he said quietly, the words a vow.
Her lips parted, protest dying on her tongue. "Adrian—"
"If you try," he continued, voice lower now, darker, laced with possession, "I swear I'll stop you. Tie you down if I have to."
She swallowed hard, pulse thundering in her ears. His grip tightened just enough—fingers digging into her hip, a promise of restraint. "I'm serious, Kiss. I won't watch you walk away again. Not from me. Not from them."
"You don't get to decide that," she whispered, but her voice wavered, heartbeat betraying her—fast, unsteady, alive.
His eyes held hers, unblinking. "I already did."
Silence stretched between them. Thick. Dangerous. Alive with possibility. The room faded—the concerned stares of Isaac and Augustina, the twins' watchful eyes. It was just them, suspended in the gravity of what they'd built and what she might shatter.
Upstairs, the twins had crept to the landing, peering down. "Aunty Kiss angry?" Harmony whispered.
Theo frowned. "Mama not leave."
But then—the front door burst open.
Glass shattered somewhere in the entryway. Footsteps—multiple, heavy—thundered through the hall. A man's voice barked, rough and urgent: "She's here! Secure the kids!"
Adrian spun, shoving Kiss behind him. Isaac lunged for the twins and his child. Kiss's phone buzzed again—unknown number. The screen flashed: She's coming for you.
Gunshots cracked outside.